


Ochotona macrotis

by dehautdesert



Series: The Third Aspect [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Brotherhood, Daemons, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Helcaraxë, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, fatigue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dehautdesert/pseuds/dehautdesert
Summary: Out on the Grinding Ice, no one gets an easy ride. But, once in a while, there are some (and their daemons) who get a ride.





	Ochotona macrotis

**Author's Note:**

> Not absolutely necessary to read the other parts of this series to understand this, especially if you're familiar with daemon-verse fics, but it helps with head-canon specific to this verse, and some character development.
> 
> Skip to the end for a list of daemons appearing in this part - their forms might not be made entirely explicit in the text. For this verse I decided to have some fun and give the daemons names of mythological characters from our world, some random, some very on-the-nose in terms of symbolism. The title of each part is the binomial species name of one of the daemons featured in the chapter - in this case, Aegnor's.
> 
> Oh, and I decided to use 'Aicanaro' instead of 'Ambarato', which is apparently the name used by the tags, because that's the way I've seen it written more often.

 

 

*~*~*

 

_"The daemon has a physical form, although it is an aspect of the spirit, but this is not a form such as the_ hroa _of an elf. A daemon does not need to eat, for instance, though they might suffer if their partner suffers from hunger. A daemon may not have the abilities of the animal whose form they have appeared in – this is often the case with those who resemble venomous beasts – or they might. And their form might be assailed, and by this assailment their elf may be injured also, but the injuries on both are rarely like to like._

_Conversely, an elf may have no injuries at all, yet if he suffers in his spirit the marks of that suffering might appear visible on the daemon. It is said on the Helcaraxe that the Noldor were confused at first, unused as they were to such hardships, why many daemons remained lively while their elves could no longer walk from the burden of their road, and why many daemons could no longer walk even as their elves marched on, blank-faced and dauntless._

_In respect to the bond between elf and daemon – and this is true of Men as well – it is often the case that one cannot predict the effect that harm done to one might have on his or her partner."_

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

The daemons did not feel the cold as the animals whose forms they wore would have.

 

And indeed, Aicanaro took much relief from this, for though she remained wrapped close to his sister's skin at almost every moment, he did not think Hecate could have survived the Helcaraxe had she been a true snake. Nor most of the daemons of his other family members for that matter. Nor those of most of their long-suffering people.

 

But, if it had been himself alone, he might at least have hoped…

 

"Come on, slug-a-bed, come on! You have to keep moving!"

 

"Well, of course I have to keep moving," he growled. " _I'm_ not the problem here – it's these cursed feet that seem to be too frozen through to walk."

 

"And if you don't start walking again they'll freeze up even worse, and then what will we do? I'm not a bird; I can't go much farther than thirty feet away from you! So get up! Or your knees will freeze as well!"

 

_In a moment_ , Aicanaro thought. His knees had already felt just as frozen anyway, at least before they'd actually been touching the snow, which he was even now starting to sink into. _I'll get up in just a moment. Just one minute to gather my strength together._

 

"Come on, Aicanaro, get up!"

 

"You can say 'get up' as much as you please, Jemima, it's not going to help!"

 

_Honestly._ And she, though small, a mountain beast who'd always hated hot weather in the past – not that _she_ was particularly sluggish out on the ice now, though her sandy fur seemed permanently dusted with snow. Not like some of the other daemons. Findarato had told him the daemons' strength depended less on external factors and more on the spirit of the elf, so Aicanaro guessed Jemima's frantic jumping around and pelting him with snow meant that at least he was in good spirits, though slowly freezing to death.

 

It was the fourth winter of their march across the Helcaraxe, and the worst one yet. The wind shrieked across the ice, stirring up the top layer of snow so that even when it was not actually snowing, it still seemed to be snowing. Already the count of the dead was higher than that of the previous winter and the first combined, and fast approaching the count of the second, which had previously been the worst. All this though they had only just passed halfway through the season, and had no idea of how many more lay ahead of them.

 

Theirs was a bitter march, and it was gnawing at him. Gnawing at all of them really, but today (if there could be said to be such a thing as 'day' anymore), today it had come particularly hard upon.

 

"You shouldn't have skipped breakfast," his daemon scolded him. He rolled his eyes.

 

"Findarato needed it more," he reminded her. "He's been giving half his food to Turno's family for weeks."

 

"And you've been giving half of yours to anyone with a sad look on their face," Jemima huffed, kicking more snow at him. "You're not as strong as Findarato, you know."

 

"Piss off I'm not!" he snapped.

 

He'd never admit that since Jemima was, in a way, himself, he already knew she had the right of it on that one. At any rate, it seemed his sudden yell had attracted attention.

 

"Aiya, Aicanaro, this is no time to play in the snow!"

 

Another eye-roll escaped him at sound of the jovial voice shouting out at him over the wind. He turned his head far enough to see Arakano much closer than he'd thought he'd been, dimly illuminated by a torch just as much on its last legs as Aicanaro himself felt. Dido flew down to Jemima's side, hopping a little over the snow.

 

"Though you might as well let us join in," she said, as bright as her elf in her tone. "We could use a laugh."

 

"Oh," Aicanaro said, through chattering teeth. "Well, by all means pull up a chair. I'll be getting on in a moment."

 

His youngest cousin crouched down in front of him and sighed. Up close Aicanaro could just about make out the his face, and the pitying expression on it.

 

"Don't look at me like that!" he told him.

 

Arakano held his hands up. "Like what?" he cried. "I wasn't looking at you like anything." He paused. "Except like you might keel over any moment and stay here, waiting beneath the snow for an ice-bear to dig you out in the spring."

 

"Hmm, the stomach of an ice bear is sounding nice and warm right about now, I have to admit."

 

"I'm afraid my brother and sister brought down the last one we came across and in a few hours _it_ will be warming up in _our_ stomachs. But I'm sure there are others nearby, just waiting for a tasty Noldo prince to get them through this winter."

 

"A good thing you're here to satisfy their hunger then, cousin," Aicanaro returned. "I'm going to be on my way from here shortly."

 

It should have seemed wrong, he thought, to jest so of being eaten by ice bears when more than a few of their people had met such an end in truth.

 

Only, it didn't.

 

_Just one more moment,_ Aicarnaro told himself again. _One more moment and then I'll stand up and keep moving._

 

_Come on, Aicanaro,_ Jemima begged. _Just get up!_

 

He had to do it. Arakano was standing right in front of him, by Elbereth, and he had his pride to think of as much as anything else! If he died here he'd never hear the end of it from –

 

"What do we have here, then?"

 

Ugh.

 

In a gap in the wind Zipporah glided down in front of him on banded wing and cocked her head, blue eyes looking to Jemima for an explanation. Angarato trudged over soon after, and Findarato was at his side; the only saving grace now was the absence of Ataresto, who with any luck was busy mother-henning their sister at that moment. Her or an ice bear.

 

"Aicanaro's found a fun new game," said Arakano. "Sit and stare at the snow until an ice bear eats you."

 

Aicanaro rolled his eyes. "I hate you Arakano," he stammered. "I just wanted you to know that in case the bear gets you first."

 

"A funny game indeed," said Angarato, sounding anything but amused. "He told _me_ he was 'just going to check something'."

 

There was a brief pause in the conversation as a particularly strong gust of wind battered against their cloaks, and Aicanaro had to grab both Jemima and Zipporah quickly to shield them from it lest they be blown away. Findarato and Arakano covered Nausicaa and Dido with their cloaks hastily.

 

For what seemed like long moments the four of them were huddled there, moving closer to each other instinctively to form a stronger wall against the cold. When it was at last over Findarato breathed like he had just come up from being trapped under water before he spoke.

 

"Well, if you were checking on whether the weather was just as bad in this spot as in the rest of the column, I think we can agree the answer's yes!" he gasped out.

 

"Very funny, brother!" Aicarnaro yelled back. "J-just give me a moment!" He released both daemons again, Zipporah's black and gold plumage ruffled but intact and Jemima seemingly unhurt.

 

With the three of them now there he felt unable to wait to gather himself any longer and though he knew it was premature he forced himself to rise up onto his numb feet and aching legs. But they did not support him, and he fell forward. So, with his hands on the top layer of snow he quickly made the attempt to take a few steps on all fours, to give himself a run-up as it were to getting back on his feet, only his hands were little better off than those feet and dropped him onto his elbows, from which he could not get up any further.

 

More than that, even with only those two, pathetic attempts, he was somehow exhausted – tired like he'd never felt before. Even his eyelids were struggling to remain open.

 

"He can't do it, Angarato," Zipporah informed them all. "He's too weak."

 

Little traitor. He'd forgotten that by taking hold of her she'd gain some access to his feeling; he'd been too distracted to glean much from her in turn and wasn't all that interested in what Angarato was thinking anyway.

 

"I am not," he said. On the last word he accidentally bit the inside of his lip his teeth chattered so hard.

 

Jemima pawed at him insistently. "Don't close your eyes, Aicanaro!" she begged him. "Keep them open for me, please?!"

 

His eyes were closed? It was so dark he couldn't tell, and though he was no longer looking at them, Aicanaro could just about sense the pity turning to fear in both his cousin and his brothers, and this was at the same time that his own frustration with these circumstances was turning to tired acceptance.

 

So he did not protest when Angarato trudged forward, grabbed his left arm and slung it around his shoulder before hoisting him up at last.

 

"Come on, little brother," he said. "Not that I'd begrudge our friends the ice bears a princely dinner, but Father expected us to look after each other out here."

 

Father.

 

Aicanaro wondered if it was the mention of him that decided his subsequent failure to walk forward, even supported by his brother, or if that would have happened anyway. Either way, he nearly brought Angarato down beside him and while Arakano came to help, Findarato rushed forth first and took his right arm.

 

But they were all of them weak. The furs they wore were heavy.

 

Heavy like Aicanaro's eyelids.

 

Four years ago, before their uncle had betrayed them, Aicanaro had not resented his father for choosing to leave their quest and return to Tirion. Not after what had happened at Aqualonde. They were all adults and could make their own decisions, that was what he had thought then. And in the _summers_ on the Helcaraxe he could tell himself that had his father known, truly known, the road that lay ahead for his children, his brother and sister, his niece and nephews and all their people – he would have stayed with them. Or at least perhaps tried harder to convince them all to turn back with him.

 

But in the winters, he only cried out for his father and Orpah to come to their sides. Never out loud; why waste the heat trapped inside his mouth for such a futile gesture? Yet his heart cried, and Jemima watched the path they'd left behind any time he stopped to catch his breath – for the shadow of a dove on the horizon, he thought. A dove that would never come.

 

"No, come on Aicanaro – you close your eyes now and they'll freeze shut," Angarato was yelling, "and won't you look a fool then!"

 

"Arakano's eyelashes broke off again today, on the left side," Dido piped up. "I suppose you didn't notice, since he always looks a fool."

 

Well, there was at least one dove at his side presently, Aicanaro supposed, and Dido was better than nothing. Yet, and to his perplexed horror,he suddenly found he was not cheered by the jesting as he would have been even ten minutes ago, and his heart was not crying for his father but felt cold, like the rest of him.

 

What was happening to him? Could the ice have really reached so deep?

 

_I'm not going to be fine in just a moment_ , he realised.

 

_That's what I've been trying to tell you!_ Jemima cried. _You have to rest, or eat something – tell them!_

 

_… We cannot stop the march_ , he reminded her. _And I'm not hungry_.

 

And even now he couldn't bring himself to say anything. In truth, he _had_ felt the sharpness of Zipporah's and through her Angarato's fear for him. Little sense as it made, he couldn't bring himself to give credence to those fears, even as by saying nothing he was doing just that, even as those fears were realised more with every passing moment.

 

But neither could he put the slightest weight on either leg without it buckling.

 

"He needs to eat something!" Jemima cried out loud, hopping up and down on the snow a few, half-hearted hops – even she was beginning to falter now. "He'll be fine then; just you see!"

 

Then Nausicaa (he saw her yellow-green head out of the corner of his eye now she was close) jumped across Findarato's shoulder onto his, and rubbed her head against his cheek. Findarato was then more present then than he had been before, even more than he'd been arm in arm with Aicanaro, in his heart and mind, and there at least Aicanaro felt a little warmer – like something of the Light still remained somehow, even without the trees.

 

_I'm here_ , Findarato told him. _I'm here, little brother. Draw your strength from me._

 

_In a moment_ , Aicanaro thought. He repeated it still, though he and Findarato both knew he was lying from the connection now between them. And probably from common sense alone they'd all known it all along anyway.

 

"Come on, little brother," Findarato said out loud. "You can do it."

 

If only he could have. On his other side and probably almost as worn out as he, Angarato stepped on the hem of his own cloak in a moment of uncharacteristic gracelessness, and pulled Aicanaro down with him. Findarato tried to hold him up, but connected as they were by Nausicaa's touch the action was more startling than it otherwise would have been, and he was brought to his knees beside them.

 

Arakano hastened forth, shouting, "Are you all – "

 

Only for the wind to suddenly shriek ten times as loud, and barrel against them like a rain of blows. The sharp pain in the shells of Aicanaro's ears that had long since numbed flared up again, and the insides of his ears screamed back at the piercing howl. He and his brothers and their daemons were left huddled against each other for as long as that great onslaught struck them; a full half-minute that seemed to stretch on to an hour.

 

They were all gasping for breath when it was done. Angarato put his mitted hand over Aicanaro's fur-wrapped head.

 

"We cannot drag him like this, Arakano – there has to be another way."

 

Aicanaro felt his heart shrivel at those words, the pain he was in and the pain it caused his family.

 

Those of his family who were there.

 

...

 

Jemima whined, and it sounded like she was crying.

 

Then suddenly Arakano said, "Ah – " distracted by something behind them, and before Aicanaro knew what was happening strong arms had grabbed him from behind.

 

"Nh – !?" he could but make a small noise of surprise. Jemima squeaked in tandem.

 

The hands twirled him – Angarato and Findarato were pushed aside and Nausicaa fluttered back to her own elf's shoulder, and in half a moment he was hoisted over another elf's shoulder and lifted bodily up from the snow.

 

"Ah, Father!" Arakano cried.

 

Angarato and Findarato both were too surprised to greet their uncle – Aicanaro saw it on their faces when Nolofinwe turned around to carry him away from the spot he'd been worried was about to become his grave.

 

"W-wait," he mumbled. He was dizzy from the speed of it all.

 

Nolofinwe said nothing. He heaved Aicanaro up the small depression in the ice he'd wandered into, and back towards the column.

 

Waiting there, between them and the others, the form of a dark brown mare stood on the snow drift, stalwart.

 

True horses could not walk on the snow as elves and daemons could. The few that remained to them were rarely burdened with anything anymore – not even children. Only blankets, if they could spare them, to try and keep them warmer. The ones that made it through the winter would carry baggage again in the spring, the ones that didn't would be eaten – and if things went much worse many feared those who would have otherwise come out the other side in spring would have to be eaten anyway.

 

Their bread had all been gone by the first spring, and summer hunting and winter fishing for the most part decided their fates these days. Both seemed to be yielding slimmer pickings year after year. Over-hunting on their part? Or a consequence of the loss of the Trees? Either way their own herd shrunk year after year; less than one in five of the foals born that spring had made it over the hill of winter. The cattle and sheep fared a little better than the horses, but fewer had been brought of those in the first place, and every cow they ate meant less milk, every bull meant one less to pull a cart, and every sheep less wool to warm themselves.

 

But Ruth still walked upon the snow, her gait determined, and every day the ice chewed on their people Nolofinwe would pick a faltering elf from the column and seat them on his daemon's back. It seemed to matter not if they were not a close blood relative, he allowed them that contact anyway – for Ruth alone could bear a rider above the surface of their frozen road.

 

This was a thing unheard of. And yet this was Nolofinwe, and this was the Helcaraxe, and none of these things, Aicanaro thought, were things that could be elsewhere in the world – much like the Trees, or like the thrice-damned Silmarils. And today, it seemed, was Aicanaro's turn to sit in the proverbial saddle. He had not the strength to object, which he supposed was why it was his turn.

 

Yet as he saw when they approached, it was also Elenwe's turn – again.

 

"Hello, cousin," she greeted him, weary yet cheerful all the same. At her side was Laurefinde, a dear friend of Turukano's, whose daemon was no less impressive than Maitimo's Calliope. Her name was Jael, and she was a lioness.

 

"Prince Aicanaro," said Laurefinde. He smiled kindly at him as Nolofinwe heaved him onto Ruth's back behind Elenwe. Ruth hardly seemed to notice the extra weight.

 

Jael said nothing; her mouth was full of feathers – and the feathers were of Elenwe's daemon Joseph, who was a peacock such as had existed in the southern parts of Aman; greener than their northern kin. The sight of him in the great huntress's mouth was somewhat alarming, but Joseph was unhurt; only tired, his great tail-feathers weight down by ice, and he was carried by Jael for the love that was between them and Turukano.

 

"Elenwe; Laurefinde," he said.

 

Behind him, Arakano and his brothers were running to catch up. Angarato had Jemima in his arms and he handed her back to Aicanaro, who placed her on his shoulder.

 

"There you are, you silly thing," his brother muttered. Aicanaro heard him somehow, over the wind. Perhaps because he'd held Jemima, though there had been no contact with his skin.

 

"Hold on to me, Aicanaro," Elenwe told him. "We'll share warmth."

 

"Turukano won't mind?" he jested, wrapping his arms around her middle. She snorted.

 

It was only then he noticed all of a sudden that there was a third rider on Ruth's back.

 

"Aiya," he said. "Hello, little one. I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

 

Sitting in front of Elenwe, securely in her arms, was a boy of less than five years, a wisp of chestnut hair fluttering out of his furred hood and silver-grey eyes that looked up at Aicanaro curiously. He was relieved to see the boy, though clearly tired, did not seem of low spirits.

 

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's not the child I usually see at your side, Elenwe," Findarato pointed out, grinning.

 

"What, that noisy little imp Itarille?" Arakano asked brightly. "Sister Elenwe traded her back to the stork for a better model. Because everyone knows boys are better!"

 

"Itarille was taken by her aunt to see a bear hunt," Elenwe told him, rolling her eyes. "And Turukano has gone to meet them. This is Ingaro, and his daemon Io." A mousy little face poked out of the boy's hood next to his own. "We're giving his mother a rest and having Ruth carry him today."

 

Neither Aicanaro nor the others asked after the boy's father – just in case. Too many possibilities that might have cause the child pain.

 

"Ah. Well met, Ingaro, Io. Say that all three of us together are not too heavy for you, Ruth?" he asked the great daemon beneath them.

 

Elenwe straightened up. "I think I can walk again under my own power, if it is a trouble – "

 

"It is no trouble," said Ruth. "You all weigh very little."

 

Aicanaro looked ahead to where Nolofinwe was already re-joining the march for his input, but his back was turned, and he said nothing. Ruth began to walk behind him thereafter.

 

"Yes," said Angarato, with great disapproval. "No doubt at least one of you should be eating more."

 

The look he gave to Aicanaro left no confusion as to which one he thought that was. But Aicanaro found his spirits had lifted, even only in the last half-minute, and he smiled sheepishly.

 

"Ah, Aicanaro is only worn out from playing all that hide and seek with ice bears," Arakano said. "If only he wasn't so bad at it…"

 

Ingaro giggled. "Ice bears don't play hide and seek!" he protested.

 

"That's what we keep trying to tell Aicanaro!" cried Arakano. He leaned in. "But between you and me, I think Prince Aicanaro is a little dim."

 

The boy giggled more, and since everyone else was clearly on the verge of it also, Aicanaro shrugged and said –

 

"I'll have you know, Arakano, I am far more than a little dim. I am the dimmest elf in this entire column."

 

More giggles.

 

Angarato huffed and threw his hands up. "I don't know. Have you any siblings, Ingaro?"

 

Ingaro nodded.

 

"And are they as silly as my little brother?"

 

Ingaro nodded again, more vigorously.

 

"Then you at least know what I have to go through."

 

"And I," said Arakano. His daemon fluttered onto the top of her mother's head, and following her with his eyes Aicanaro saw there was a gap in the clouds – just a small one – that let enough starlight through to show how alike in colour she was to Ruth, though they were different in all other regards. "Especially that Turukano, what with his terrible taste in girls…"

 

Elenwe took one hand off Ingaro's shoulder to reach over and hit her brother-in-law over the head.

 

"Look at that everyone!" cried Findarato. "The stars are out!"

 

"Thank Elbereth," said Laurefinde. "Perhaps this wind will ease up soon. Prince Nolofinwe said we would make camp in another few miles – the scouts are sure there is a secure place over the next hill, where there is earth, not ice beneath the snow."

 

"Thank Elbereth indeed," said Angarato.

 

Then Ingaro asked, "Who is Prince Nolofinwe?"

 

Aicanaro blinked at the oddness of such a question, and looked up ahead at his uncle's back. The elf still did not turn around, though he must have heard.

 

Arakano spluttered a little – "What? Who is Prince Nolofinwe? Whose daemon are you sitting on, you silly boy?"

 

Ingaro blinked and said, with consummate innocence, "But I thought he was the _king_?"

 

No one could think of what to say to that. An awkward silence descended.

 

But then as the gap in the cloud widened and more stars gave their light to the weary elves, Findarato noticed Ingaro's daemon Io move out for a closer look, and saw a way to dispel the silence with – "That is a strange little mouse you have upon your shoulder."

 

"Io's not a mouse," Ingaro insisted, a little offended by the sound of it. Indeed, the small brown furball crawled into Aicanaro's view, and he saw the oddly elongated nose. "She is a sengi, and that's a very small elephant."

 

"An elephant?" asked Aicanaro. "I don't think I've ever seen one of those before. What do they look like?"

 

Ingaro threw out his arms, "They are the biggest animals in the _world_!" he said.

 

"Oh, then maybe when Io grows up she can give all of us a ride too," said Arakano.

 

The little boy shook his head though. "Mm-mm. Io won't get much bigger than this."

 

_"A sorry excuse even for a rat,"_ Uncle Feanaro would probably have said. Damn him. Jemima squirmed uncomfortably. _"Not even a pair of wings to carry it an inch above the height of the dirt."_

 

"Is your daemon a rabbit, Prince Aicanaro?" asked Ingaro, seeing him fall silent.

 

"No," he said, chuckling a little. "Lady Yavanna called her a 'pika'. They live up on the mountains."

 

He looked at the drifts ahead and in his mind he conjured up the image of the mountains he used to climb with his brothers and cousins and their daemons, of how Jemima had leapt over the rocks like she'd lived there with the real pikas all her life and called on her normally quicker siblings to hurry up – the strong winds, that to them had been refreshing instead of overbearing, keeping the birds huddled on the shoulders of their elves – or flying wildly, often having to catch higher winds to avoid being flung against the mountain side.

 

He remembered the time Dido had been blown so high the distance had squeezed Arakano's heart worse than he had ever seen before, and the young elf had been driven to his knees, and he remembered the time Aoide had misjudged such a wind and ended up cast into the branches of a mountain pine, her wing broken – and Makalaure's arm likewise had been paralysed until Maitimo had set the wing aright. But Jemima had never a care out there.

 

Aicanaro had loved the nip of the mountain winds. And he would have hoped, he thought, as he rested more of his weight against Elenwe's back and let her warmth creep through her cloak towards him, that being so inclined _he_ could have been the one to carry others out here too.

 

But that may have just been his conceit.

 

_Silly elf,_ Jemima told him, nestled in his furs. _Pikas hibernate in_ this _sort of weather._

 

He smiled.

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

As Aicanaro rested and Findarato and Arakano continued to entertain little Ingaro, Angarato and Zipporah ran ahead a little ways, to where Nolofinwe pressed on in front.

 

"Uncle," he said. He'd not had the chance to greet him earlier.

 

"Is your brother better?" Nolofinwe asked him.

 

"I think so. From the bottom of my heart you have my gratitude, Uncle."

 

The words seemed paltry, considering the boon that had been given. To have another touch your daemon – even a sibling or a parent – could be a shock. To have one who was not your spouse or close blood relative do so was considered a crime. Angarato could not imagine what Nolofinwe went through to have Ruth give out rides as she did.

 

But then, perhaps Nolofinwe could not imagine not doing so. Before his other uncle had betrayed them, Angarato had always thought of Nolofinwe as aloof, distant and severe. But now…

 

Now Nolofinwe had not sat astride Ruth himself since their first winter on the ice.

 

"No thanks are necessary," he was told. "I made a promise when my brother returned to Tirion, Angarato. Out on the road that lies before us _I_ am your father. And your brothers'. And your sister's."

 

For a long time Angarato stared, and could find no words to say.

 

_Ours, and anyone else who needs one,_ he thought.

 

_And Ruth our mother_ , Zipporah pondered. She turned back to the daemon herself, and the intimidation was not gone, for Ruth was enormous, and both Zipporah's parents had been of similar size to her; two doves, with Orpah's emerald spots and Troilus' bright red heart like beacons so that she could always see them…

 

But she had not seen those beacons in four winters.

 

Nor their 'Queen' Pandora, however brightly she had burned in the past.

 

Yet she did see Ruth.

 

"How fares Zipporah?" Nolofinwe asked them.

 

"Fine, Nolofinwe," Zipporah answered. "Lady Yavanna said herself, a flicker like me is not a bird for warm weather alone."

 

She had not said a flicker was built for icy wastelands, to be fair, but Angarato remained strong, and so Zipporah was not in dire straits. Nolofinwe clapped Angarato on the shoulder.

 

"Good," he said. Then his grey eyes turned to the sky. "The clouds are clearing. Let's hope the worst is over."

 

Angarato nodded. They stood there for a moment without speaking, and Angarato thought that was no bother, for it seemed nothing needed to be said – like the discourse without words between elf and daemon he knew something of Nolofinwe's heart he needn't have said anything about, and he felt better than he had in days.

 

The moment was ended by Arakano, running up through the snow to throw his arms around his father's back, crying –

 

"A-tto! They're all ganging up on me-e!"

 

Nolofinwe sighed. "Even Dido?"

 

"Especially Dido!"

 

Behind them there was a chorus of laughter from around Ruth. The corner of Nolofinwe's lip curled up into a rare smile.

 

"There, there," he said. He sounded more amused than sympathetic.

 

Arakano yelled back at the others – "See! Atto loves me the best!" and they laughed again.

 

"Well," said Angarato, "if they're all ganging up on Arakano then I'm definitely going to join in!"

 

"Ah – Angarato, you traitor!"

 

They fell in to more laughter then, and persevered across the ice.

 

Until they next stopped for camp and a meal of ice-bear hunted by Irisse and Findekano the clouds continued to part until they were no more than wisps on either side of the horizon, and the winds let up and the snow remained settled on the path, and the gnawing cold did not eat up Aicanaro that day, nor any of his brothers and sisters. To say 'cousins' now, Angarato guessed, was moot, if Nolofinwe was now his father too.

 

So was the terror of the Helcaraxe turned for a moment into light. So Angarato remembered it ever after.

 

Remembered, even though of the three elves who'd ridden Ruth in that dark and light moment, only Aicanaro and Jemima made it to the shores of Beleriand.

 

 

 

*~*~*

 

 

 

Daemons introduced in this chapter include those of –

 

Finrod:                  Nausicaa, a budgerigar

Angrod:                Zipporah, an Andean flicker

Aegnor:                Jemima, a long-eared pika

Argon:                  Dido, a sultan's cuckoo-dove

Elenwe:                 Joseph, a green peacock

Glorfindel:            Jael, a lioness

 

 

*~*~*

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to do something with Fingolfin and Angrod and Aegnor since in the Silm it seems like their deaths contribute a lot to making him go all kamikaze, but obviously we never get a sense of their prior relationship, and I haven't seen it explored in fic before, so... yeah. This is what I came up with.
> 
> Next time, the arrival of the pair that I suspect the readers have been waiting for...


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